


In the Shadow of their Cruel Embrace

by LilithsLullaby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Biting, Blood Kink, F/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithsLullaby/pseuds/LilithsLullaby
Summary: Caught in a thunder storm, you stumble upon a dark manor whose residents gladly welcome you in. But dark secrets lurk beyond its walls, waiting to eat you alive.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki/Steve Rogers, Loki/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 161





	1. Out of the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this my Halloween special! I have been wanting to return to this trio for some time (I do love a bit of Steve and Loki together). 
> 
> This piece was inspired by a hilarious TikTok by miss.lovelock
> 
> "When will a gorgeous couple who are widely rumored to be vampires invite me to their formerly beautiful mansion now in a state of disrepair and then serve a lavish meal that they barely pick at while they sip on dry red wine. And trade compliments with me borderline salaciously. And then it starts to rain and one of them goes 'It's getting very late. You really must stay for the night'. AND I DO."

The lightning illuminates the night sky; the darkness broken for only a moment before returning to the cold, dissolute rain cast like a curtain across the horizon. You are chilled right down to bone. Even Margaret beneath you seem to shiver against the cold as the rain continues to batter down against your tired bodies.

“Keep going. Just a little longer,” you say softly to the horse. Not that she can hear you over the thunder or the wind. Not that she can understand you at all.

You encourage her into a run as you race through the rain toward a beacon up ahead. A light shining through the perilous night.

It had been a rash decision. To leave so suddenly, and during a storm at that. It had been the most inopportune time to run, but it had also been your only chance. The storm gave you the perfect cover, the perfect means to escape without worry of a rescue crew being close behind. The rain washing away much of the roads would give them pause.

“We will look for her come sunrise,” they’d say. “When the skies have cleared.”

You’d be long gone by then. Or so you hoped. But the rain worked against you as much as it did for you. You would catch a cold no doubt, if not pneumonia. You needed to stop, if only to break the chill that permeated your bones. And the manor up ahead may just be your saving grace.

You are unfamiliar with this part of town. You’ve never taken Margaret this way, staying more to the valleys and the forests by your home. The terrain you knew like the back of your hand. This was new territory yet to be discovered. But you know this manor. From whispers in town, chatty gossip that filled the church pews.The manor has long been unoccupied. A relic of colonial times. But recently, it had become a home once more. A home to a pair of wealthy oil tycoons, supposedly. You knew no more than that, never having been one for gossip. Wealthy or not, you prayed they were at least hospitable. The warm amber glow of candles illuminates the second floor windows and beckons you toward their promised warm.

But as you approach the gates, Margaret stalls. She neighs and bucks and refuses to go any further.

“Come on, girl,” you encourage but still, she fusses and thrashes beneath you. You hop down off of her, resolute to leave her to the gate while you seek refuge within. You tie her to the ironwork with the promise you’ll return.

You wrap your cloak tight around yourself. Your hood refuses to stay, blown back by the wind. Your head is drenched, leaving strands of your hair stuck to your cheeks. When you come toward the house, toward its massive double doors, you are greeted by the beast of its brass knocker. The wolf carved into the metal seems to howl at you in greeting. You grab hold, and make yourself known.

It takes a moment for a response to come. But when it does, you are nearly blinded by the brilliance of the foyer as the door opens and brings forth a burst of illuminance. You shield your eyes to adjust.

“My, my, what do we have here? Little red riding hood?” A man asks before you. But blinking, you barely manage to take in the sight of him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late.” Your teeth are chattering. “I got caught up in this storm. Do you mind if I...”

“Of course not! Come in, come in. Please get yourself warm.”

He ushers you inside. But instead of looking at him, your eyes are glued to your boots as you track in dirt into his pristine home.

“You rode here on horseback?” He asks, the door still open.

“Yes, do you have somewhere I can put her? I’d hate for her to be left in the rain like this.”

“Of course. I’ll have the boy take her to our stables out back and get her fed.”

Finally, you manage to peel your vision from the floor to look at your gracious host.

He is younger than you anticipated. When they spoke of oil tycoons, you pictured aged, bearded gentlemen, sporting pocket watches and matching monocles. But before you is a young dark haired bachelor, dressed in a casual suit. He gives you a gentle smile, emphasized by the brilliance of his green eyes.

“Thank you for welcoming me in like this,” you stutter. He reaches forward, and you obediently shift out of your coat. He takes it, casually hanging it to dry on a rack by the door.

“It’s no trouble,” he says. That smile still plastered to his lips.

You are unsure what else to say. So instead, you take in the magnificence of his home. Marble opulence, gold decadence. The vision of royalty. Unsuited for your humble town.

“You have a beautiful home,” you compliment.

He nods in thanks, leading you further into the manor. The door creaks closed behind you, sealing you inside. “I have to know...What was a young woman such as yourself doing riding her horse through the middle of a thunder storm?” His voice is light with hinted laughter. “Were you running from a jolted lover, perhaps?”

You feel the heat blossoming along your cheeks and turn away, back toward the windows. You notice a servant boy running out into the rain to retrieve Margaret. But his master never sent for him. He appeared suddenly, sent as if by some silent command.

You feel your host stepping forward, coming close.

“Was I correct?” He asks softly.

“We have a guest I see,” someone calls from behind you, halting any response. You turn to see another young man standing at the crest of a grand staircase that slopes down into the foyer. He slowly descends to join you. He is the opposite of the man before you. Where he is slender and dark, the moon embodied, this man is the sun. Bright golden hair, stalky form, and brilliant blue eyes that take your breath away.

“Little lamb was caught in the storm,” the man beside you explains.

“Well, we should get her out of those wet clothes then,” the other man says with a smile.

You take a step back, alarmed. He notices and softens his gaze.

“So you don’t catch a cold,” he clarifies. “We will need to get you into something dry, warm.”

You sigh in admitted relief. “Thank you. That would be very nice actually.”

The golden haired man comes forward and takes your hand, leaning down to kiss your knuckles gently in greeting. “Steve Rogers,” he introduces. “And this cod of a man behind you is Loki Laufeyson.”

“So you aren’t brothers then?” You ask, once you too have introduced yourself.

“Heavens no,” Steve laughs. “His brother is probably somewhere out west, fighting buffalo.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Loki laughs. “We are business partners.” His eyes light up at the title. _Partners_. “My sister will have likely left some clothes upstairs. They should fit you just fine.”

“Go on, help yourself. First door to the right,” Steve adds. “We will meet you in the dining room. Make yourself at home.”

You nod and leave them to ascend the grand staircase. You find the room quickly. It is dark inside, save for a single candle already lit and waiting for you. There is a closet to your left and looking inside, you are surprised to find it full stocked with women’s clothing.

“A few dresses, hm?” You mutter to yourself. This was not forgotten attire. Not a stray dress here, a pair of bloomers there. This was meant for someone’s full livelihood.

You find a dress quickly, a velvet red that looks as if it will suffice. And sure enough, it fits you perfectly. As if left there just for you. You wring your hair a bit, trying to sort out the mess the rain has left of your appearance. But you cannot be certain just how disheveled you truly look. There are no mirrors to be found. Not in this room, nor in the halls, or any other rooms you stumble upon.

You venture back downstairs when you are satisfied enough, wandering aimlessly. They had not explained where the dining room would be and at first, you were certain it would not be hard to find. But the manor is surprisingly mystifying. Endless corridors, lounge rooms and a parlor are found before any semblance of a dining room. You even stumble upon a wall decorated with portraits. Two of the men you’ve just met, but others as well. A beautiful dark haired beauty. Loki’s sister perhaps. As well as a norse looking man, a viking of sorts, suited with a hammer in hand.

The men are already seated when you finally find the dining room. However, oddly, the long table is only set for one. A warm bowl of soup awaits you while the two men merely sip on goblets of wine. Loki holds his goblet out, sloshing the dark liquid within. He immediately catches your gaze.

“Don’t you look ravishing,” he compliments with a devilish smirk. “That dress suits you much better than Hela. I’d say it’s yours to keep.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing as you take your appointed seat between the two men, at the head of the table. “You aren’t eating? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving actually.” Loki licks his lips.

“We will dine later,” Steve explains, his tone a bit harsh, aimed only toward Loki. He turns to you with a gentle smile. “Please eat.”

You stare down at the soup which is a strange, unpleasant shade of red. Borscht perhaps. You are too hungry to care. You take a spoonful to your lips. It’s odd metallic taste floods your mouth. You force it down.

“I would ask you to stay here tonight,” Steve says to your right once you’ve eaten a full spoonfuls.“The weather does not look like it will improve this evening.”

“I really can’t stay,” you insist. “It’s not that I am not grateful for your hospitality but I have to continue on.”

“There could be beasts out there, lurking in the darkness. Waiting to sink their fangs into you.” Loki takes a long sip from his goblet. The wine leaves a strange stain around his teeth.

“I promise you are perfectly safe here,” Steve reassures. “As is Margaret.”

You never told them her name. “I’ve heard you two are oil tycoons. Is that correct?”

Steve laughs lightly. “Is that what the folks in town are calling us?”

“I suppose that’s better than the truth,” Loki mutters.

“What’s the truth then?” You dare to ask.

“Gamblers,” Steve explains, nonchalantly. “We made a great fortune up North and decided to settle down for a bit.”

“I’m sure our church going neighbors would not be too kin on knowing that,” Loki adds before taking another sip. Steve, you note, hasn’t even touched his wine.

“What is your game of choice?” You ask, curious.

“The game of life,” Loki jests are he eyes you over his wine. “Do you gamble, little lamb?”

You shake your head. “My father does,” you explain with much regret. “So I am familiar with the games. Black Jack. Poker.”

“Then let’s play a game and make a wager,” Loki proposes with a mischievous grin. “We win, you stay for the night.”

“And if I win?”

He leans forward toward you. His cologne is strong, intoxicating, but even it is not enough to mask the odd, sharp aroma coming off his breath. “We will tell you our darkest secret.”

“Loki.” Steve’s voice is a warning, a glare across the table.

“You know we will win,” he says confidently as he leans back in his chair.

“Then get the cards,” Steve says as he pushes his fingers into his temples. He lifts his gaze to you as Loki gets up from the table, strutting to the other side of the room. “He is insufferable.”

You smile and laugh lightly. “He seems harmless.”

Steve looks at you, a serious look in his eyes. “Don’t let your guard down with him.”

You look at him, a bit confused, when Loki returns with a deck of cards and a coin.

“Heads, we pick the game. Tales, it’s your choice, darling,” he explains. He flips the coin with the flick of his finger. It spins on the table for a moment, before landing tales up. You smile confidently.

“I choose Black Jack.”

Loki takes the cards and begins to shuffle. “Best of luck,” he says with a wink.

You told them your father was a gambler. But what you hadn’t told them was you had a knack for counting cards. Sure, it was unsportsmen like.But Loki didn’t strike you as the kind of man who played fair. It does not take long before you have successfully counted your way to twenty-one, a winning hand held at the ready.

“I won!” You exclaim, tossing the cards across the table. Steve stares down at them, a bit in disbelief but Loki’s eyes are dazzling, betraying none of his defeat.

“That you did,” Loki agrees.

“Now, I believe you owe me a secret,” you say mischievously, giving him a cocky grin.

“Not just any secret.” Loki gets up from the table and comes to stand behind you, He plays with your hair, moving it away from the expanse of your neck. He strokes your skin, softly, caressing you, before leaning down to whisper gently into your ear. “We are vampires.”

You jolt away so violently the chair falls out behind you. You stumble around it barely avoiding tripping over it. “What?”

“He is kidding,” Steve tries to justify as he stands abruptly. “A cruel joke.”

“What's the harm in telling her the truth, Steve?” Loki asks with a glare to the other man. “She’ll be dead come sunrise anyway.”

“What?” You exclaim again, this time true panic seizing your heart, stalling it in your chest. You try to run for the door but Loki is suddenly in front of you, blocking your way. But it isn’t possible. He couldn’t have moved so fast to meet you there. Not unless…

“I’m sure you’ll taste delicious. I could smell you from the road, you know. The sweet perfume of innocence.” He reaches out to you, playing with the lace of your bodice. “You are a virgin, aren’t you?”

“I’m…” You are locked in the allure of his eyes. In their emerald seduction. You take a step into him without meaning to. Without even realizing.

“Would you let us fuck you before we fed on you?” He kisses your neck softly, tasting your skin. “Or perhaps we can fuck you _as_ we drain you…”

“Leave her alone!” Steve pushes his way between you. You stumble back, blinking into clarity. “She isn’t your prey for the evening,” Steve argues. “Not now, not ever.”

“Just because you have belittled yourself on vermin does not mean I will starve myself,” Loki spats. “Come on, Steve. You know you want a taste of her. It’s been so long since we’ve had something so sweet.”

“She is just a child,” Steve growls.

“She’s a woman,” Loki corrects. “A flower waiting to be plucked. A delicious little rose…”

“You’re disgusting!”

“You’re weak!”

“I should go…” You merely manage as you push past the bickering men and race toward the foyer. But you are quickly lost in the labyrinth of the manor. Every corridor is the same as the last. But you don’t let it stop you. You run and run until suddenly, you are met once again by Loki, waiting for you at a dead-end.

“Please, just let me leave,” you plea. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

“Of course you won’t, my sweet.” He corners you in against the wall, his hands pinned to either side of your head. “You won’t be leaving this place.”

Tears burn your lashes. “Please, don’t do this,” you cry. Your voice trembles. You body shakes.

Suddenly, Loki’s demeanor shifts. He studies you carefully, leaning in. “What were you running from?” He asks softly. “Why did you come here?”

You breathe in deeply, trying to settle your heart, racing in your chest. “I… I am engaged to be married,” you confess.

“And you hold no affections for this man?”

You shake your head.

“A loveless marriage is not the worst fate a woman can suffer,” Loki says in a low voice.

“I know.” Carefully, you begin to push your dress off your shoulder, enough for him to see a budding bruise ripe against your shoulder. “It wouldn’t just be loveless.”

“He did this to you?” He asks. His voice is strangely gentle. Unusual for a man who was just poised to eat you.

You pull your dress back into place, turning away. “He is my father’s protege. His successor. If I do not marry him, our business will fail. Father has gathered too much debt from his gambling. He needs this marriage to work.”

“So he’s using his daughter as a bargaining tool?” Loki’s voice is ripe with disgust. “He’ll let that man beat you just to gain a little bit of wealth?”

“He will do much worse if we are wed,” you reply. “I’m sure of it.”

Loki pulls away, putting a fair amount of distance between you. You stare back after him.

“If you are going to kill me, I’d rather you do it quickly,” you tell him in a hushed whisper.

“I won’t kill you.” His voice is barely audible. He steps back toward the opposite wall and leans against it, his foot propped up onto the wallpaper. “Leave now, little one. Don’t look back.”

“You’d really let me go?” You stutter. “After everything I know now?”

“Especially after everything _I know now_ as well.” His eyes are hooded, his gaze lost to the shadows.

You take a step forward, staring at him. You wait for a moment, sure this is a trick, another game he wants to play. But when you start to move away, back down the hall, Loki makes no move to stop you.

You find your way back to the foyer, with no sign of Steve. But when you open the door, a gust of wind pushes you back inside. The roar of thunder is near deafening. The storm has multiplied in the mere hour since you arrived, diminishing any hope of escape. Not tonight at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me if how I wrote Black Jack makes no sense! My husband gambles for fun and tried to explain it but I'm a lost cause haha


	2. And Into the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore any historical inaccuracies. :P This is all for fun.

You fall to your knees, knocked down by the wind. Behind you, the gust has slammed the door shut with a bang.

Footsteps rush toward you, hurried.

“Did he hurt you?” Steve is kneeling before you, reaching out. But you resist his offered hand. His eyes scan your neck, perhaps for a puncture wound, or two.

“Will you?” you ask as you stand on your own, stepping away from Steve.

“No.” There is something in his eyes. A pain perhaps that you even had to ask such a thing at all. “I won’t.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Nor can you leave.” It’s not meant as a threat. His eyes hold to the front windows where you can see the trees swaying violently toward breaking. 

“Should have worn my crucifix,” you joke bitterly.

Steve regards you out of the corner of his eye, neither confirming nor denying the lure.

“Was it true what he said?” You dare to ask. “That you eat vermin?”

Steve forces his hand through his hair. “I’d rather not discuss my eating habits.”

“I think it’s only fair if I am meant to be on the dinner plate,” you huff.

Steve gives you a small smile automatically, perhaps without meaning to. “I’m sure you have many more questions for us. And I suppose if it’s all out in the open now...” He begins back into the depths of the manor. “Walk with me?”

You follow after him, walking in his shadow. You should be running, you tell yourself. The storm be damned, you shouldn’t be here.

_She’ll be dead come sunrise._

You wanted an escape. To rid yourself of the life fate had so cruelly crafted for you. But you would not have chosen death. You still wanted to live. To love, truly and with the entirety of your soul. You would not die here tonight. That is a truth you will fight to keep. But still, there was the allure of curiosity. Fate was a cruel mistress to have designed your destiny thusly. To have sent you here, of all places. To the lair of vampires. Beasts known only to legend and fantasy. But here before you real. Tangible.

So you would chase the burning itch of your intrigue through the depths of their dark manor. Until sunrise.

“Are you restricted to the night?” You ask. Their dark home is cast only in the shadows of candle light, lining the halls. There are windows only sparingly, little to break the red velvet monotony of the decor within.

“That legend is true,” he says, turning back to regard at you slightly. “Though the crucifix would not have done you any good.”

He reveals a cross, hanging, hidden, beneath his dress shirt.

“You’re still a man of faith?”

“This curse did not rid me of my humanity. As much as it has tried.”

He leads you out into what appears to be a conservatory attached to the rear of the manor. The entirety of it is constructed from vaulted glass, held together by rusted green ironwork. You can see the storm raging beyond its panes but the glasswork is thick. Impenetrable. Around the room are plants, many of which you’ve never seen before. Foreign, exotic. But some are pleasantly familiar. Like a bushel of roses blooming perfectly against the glow of the moonlight above.

“It’s a bit of a disappointment that I cannot see them in their full glory under the sun,” Steve explains as he stalks the rows of flowers, caressing their petals gently as he does.

“They are still beautiful at night,” you reply.

Steve sits at a bench and watches you as you stalk the garden. You breathe in the beautiful, sweet aroma of the many intermingled flowers.

“Loki was right,” he begins. “I do quench my appetite by... lesser means.”

“Rats?” You scrunch your nose, a bit in admitted disgust.

“Or deer,” he corrects.

“But he doesn’t do the same.”

“No.” Steve stands to approach you. He lingers at your back, reaching around you to pluck a single rose free. “He would rather take something of the utmost beauty, to drink from divinity, so he says.”

“And why don’t you?”

You turn to face him. He is so close you can smell his cologne, the musk on his skin.

“I’d rather indulge my needs in other ways.”

He reaches forward, delicately placing the plucked rose behind your ear. You reach up to adjust it, only to find a torn. It pricks your finger, drawing a delicate, droplet of blood atop your skin.

“Ah.” You look down at the small wound, only for a moment before Steve has a tight grip on your hand. There is an animalistic hunger in his eyes. Carnal. A chain breaking loose as he stares at that perfect droplet, waiting to be displaced. He pulls your hand toward his face and takes your finger into his mouth, sucking the blood clean off your skin.

You stare at him, baffled. Unsure if you should pull away or if that would only lead to further ruin. But he is the one to draw free. He sighs against your skin and licks his lips.

“It’s been such a long time,” he hums. “I’ve really... been missing this.”

You try to pry your hand free from his grasp but he tightens his hold.

“Steve, don’t do this,” you begin in a plea. "You're hurting me..."

But it’s too late. The animal has taken the reigns. His humanity lost in those once crystalline eyes. He yanks your wrist back toward his face and, with newly earthed fangs, plunges into your flesh. You cry out in pain, a scream that bounces off the glass walls all around you. Your knees go weak. You feel as if you may faint. But he catches you around your waist and clutches you close as he feeds off your blood. It pours down in a stream along your elevated arm, painting the borrowed dress a new macabre shade. He sucks and tears into you with eyes ever held to yours, searching. Needing.

Your vision finally blinks out into black. You are certain it must be death come to claim you. But when you manage to come back into clarity, you are no longer in the conservatory. But rather, lying in a bed somewhere. Somewhere still within the manor.

 _Not just a bad dream_. Though you had briefly hoped it might have been.

You are terribly light headed. You try to sit up, pushing your weight down into your hands. You give out a hiss of pain and lift your wrist into view. A bandage covers your skin just below your hand. Small specs of blood have already begun to peek through.

“He did quite a number on you.”

In the doorway to your room stands Loki. He is tilted, leaning against its frame.

“You would have done the same,” you reply with a glare. Your voice seems slurred, slow. 

“I might have done worse.”

He lingers there, staring at you intently. You pull the sheets of the bed up toward your chin.

“Am I suppose to invite you in?” You ask.

He chuckles softly. He steps over the threshold and struts into the room, clearly not needing permission. He approaches your bedside and you balk.

“Relax. I come bearing tea.” He places a porcelain cup on the nightstand gently before stalking toward the foot of the bed. He sits there rather casually and crosses his legs. He leans back onto his hands to make himself comfortable. As if he will be there awhile.

“Where is Steve?”

“Probably reciting the rosary somewhere,” Loki answers with a groan. “Begging God for forgiveness.”

“How long had it been? Since he fed off of humans, I mean...”

“A century.” 

_A century._ There was no telling how much longer they’d both been alive. Far past anything dreamed possible for a mortal.

You try to get out of bed, swinging your legs to the side. But the minute your feet hit the floor, the room spins and you begin to topple forward. Loki is suddenly in front of you, catching you by your elbows.

“Careful, pet,” he warns. His grip is strong, stable. “He took quite a bit from you. You’ll need to recover.”

He gently helps you back down onto the bed. But you are quick to shift away from his touch. He reaches for the tea, urging you to take it. You do so, if only for its offered warmth. The steam rolls up and immediately the smell of chamomile meets your senses. You sigh on impulse.

“Will that be enough to sustain him?” You ask, staring down at your bandaged wrist.

“For the evening, yes.” He stands in front of you. Studying you with a narrowed gaze. “I told you to run.”

“Have you looked outside?” you counter. “Not exactly perfect conditions for escape.”

“And yet you chose this night to escape your would-be husband,” he reminds you.

You turn away, refusing his gaze.

“He did a haphazard job with dressing your wound,” Loki comments after a moment of shortened silence. “I can fix it for you.”

You hold your wrist up to your chest protectively. “You think I’d trust you?” you bark back. “A drop of blood sent Steve into a feeding frenzy. What’s to say you won’t do the same?”

“I have a lot more restraint than he does. Believe it or not.”

He sits down beside you. Despite your misgivings, you allow it. Within the nightstand drawer, he withdraws strips of gauze through which to refresh the dressing. He motions for you to hand over your wrist. You hesitate but give in to his insistence eventually. He takes your arm gently in his grasp and begins to unwind the soiled bandaging. Once it is fully removed, you finally see the wounds Steve inflicted. The two deep punctures are held to the center of your wrist, drawing from a thick blue vein beneath your skin. They are red, hot and swollen, staring up at you like two angry eyes. He dabs a sort of ointment onto the wounds. It stings and you hiss back the pain, looking away.

“Low pain tolerance?” He muses with a smirk.

“I’m a woman,” you remind him. “I have quite the tolerance for pain. And the sight of blood. That just burns a bit…” You bite your lip, to hide a wince.

He smiles at you strangely as he begins to wrap the wound anew.

“How do you lure your prey?” You ask in morbid curiosity. Now that you were stuck to their household, and perhaps even further refined to this bed, it didn’t hurt to pry. To know what you are truly dealing with. “Is there some sort of hypnosis evolved? An allure?”

He laughs at that. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he teases with a widening smile. He secures the last of the bandaging. “Why? Do you find me… alluring?” He leans into you, his lips parted. Your mouth waters; you swallow hard. You try to move away but part of you is caught in his eyes. In the danger lurking within their evergreen forests.

“I don’t think anything of you,” you snarl. “Other than the fact that you promise death.”

“Sex and death are not that dissimilar,” he whispers, his words melting into your mouth, like warm chocolate. “We are seduced by both. By the prospect of the eternal. Of sweet release.”

His lips are now so close, just barely caressing your own; the whisper of a touch. “Moans of pain and pleasure begin to sound the same.” He moves his lips and you whimper, sighing into his open mouth. “To give yourself completely over to someone else. Is that not as freeing as death?”

His hand is in your hair, pulling you into him. His lips move to your ear, whispering softly into your skin. “Would you give yourself to me if I asked?”

“I…” Your body is screaming for submission. To give him everything and anything he may ask. But you fight against the impulse. Sure it is a lie. But a part of you doesn’t care of the origin. You can only think of your desire for him. You reach out, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to pull him up onto the bed with you. He hovers over you, smiling in victory.

But before you can give into your desire, his lips so close you can taste his breath, he pulls away. He straightens his suit as he explains, “It’s called compulsion. A vampire can use it to make prey do whatever they want. To be whoever they want.”

“And that was…” You feel flushed all over. A heat presses between your thighs; a sensation you’d rather ignore.

Without answering, he slides off the bed, moving back toward the door.

“Wait!” You call after him.

He stops, looking at you over his shoulder slyly. “Yes?”

“Does this… compulsion always affect your prey the same way?” You ask quietly.

“Why?” His gaze narrows in contemplation. “How do you feel?”

“A little… flustered,” you admit. “Like the room’s too hot.”

He smirks at you, the devil dancing on his shoulder. “I didn’t use compulsion on you,” he finally admits with a wide, maddening grin. “That was just pure seduction, pet.”

“But I…”

“We will try again when you are a bit more… replenished,” he says with a wink before leaving the room, the door closed shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely taking inspiration from the lovely Anne Rice. Loki is my Lestat while Steve is my Louis. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! They keep me going/motivated.


	3. Within the Wilderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, lovelies! Enjoy :) As always, leave your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> This is a bit of a slower burn than I am used to writing for Loki (or Steve even for that matter). So hopefully you are enjoying this change of pace!

You must have fallen asleep. A dream still lingers at the edge of your memory. Lips against yours, hands on your bare skin. You shake away the thought. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to wonder, to even consider the possibility of affection in this place. Only death waited for you here. Nothing more.

The manor seems eerily quiet now. Still. Perhaps even the storm has passed. Your tea sits cold and untouched on the nightstand but now you notice a rose has joined it. Maybe even the same rose that led you to this bed.

You get up, thankful that this time the room remains stationary around you. There is no way of knowing how long you’ve slept. No sense of time in the dark manor. But it must have been long enough for you to regain some sort of strength. You venture out of the bedroom, down into the hallway. If the men have gone elsewhere, or are otherwise distracted, this may be the perfect time to make your escape.

Loki told you there was a stable at the back of the manor. You just had to find your way there through the labyrinth of their home. And then, just maybe, you could leave this nightmare behind you.

You carefully, quietly, walk downstairs. No sight of anyone yet. And the windows ahead of you depict a rainy scene, but nothing close to the storm it had once been. You venture down a hallway to the left, one you have yet to explore. There are a set of double doors at the end of corridor that when you open them, to your surprise, lead out into the wilderness. The wind whistles through the trees and somewhere in the distance a wolf howls. A warning. The rain speckles your cheeks. You should have grabbed your coat. But you did not have time for hesitation.

Just as promised, there is a wooden stable not too far off, close to the forest flanking the manor. You race toward it, ruining yet another gown. You have to lift the train in fistfuls to keep the mud from gathering in the fabric and weighing you down. When you emerge inside of the stable, you stop dead in your tracks. Margaret is there but she is lying still amongst the hay. Too still for sleep. Too still for life. And at the base of her neck are two puncture wounds marking her death sentence. There is movement just beyond her, something in the shadows. Your whole body trembles but not from terror, but rage.

“Which of you did it?” You call out into the night. “Show yourself!”

Out of the darkness, he emerges slowly. His hands are open, splayed out at his sides as if to confess his innocence. But when he comes into the moonlight, you can see the blood smeared across his jaw. The stain drenched into his once white shirt.

“Steve,” you realize. You reach for your wrist, clutching it instinctively.

He says your name, no louder than a whisper as he takes one cautionary step closer.

“Don’t,” you warn. You look around the stable, trying to find something to defend yourself with. You should have armed yourself sooner. For now, only a shovel will suffice. You hold it out at arms length to keep him back and away.

“You don’t understand.” There is a tremble to his voice, his hands. “I had to do it.”

“You had to kill her?” There are tears in your eyes now. _Margaret_. The closest thing to true family you had. A dead horse.

“When I drank from you… I… I couldn’t control myself,” he confesses. He takes another step nearer but you shove your makeshift weapon forward. It just barely jabs him in his chest but does little to give him pause. “I needed a substitute. I needed to feed so I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“So you wouldn’t kill me instead.” The tears fall down your face, intermingling with the rain. Becoming one and the same.

“I’ve never felt that unhinged,” he says. Again, he moves closer, paying little mind to the shovel now shaking in your weakened grasp. He reaches out for it, his hand gripped gently to the tip of the metal scoop. “You… woke something in me.”

“I did nothing to you.” Your lip quivers and the shovel drops from your grasp. Steve steps into its opening, reaching out for you. He takes your hand, lifting your injured wrist.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is so sincere, you almost believe him.

“But you already have.” Your eyes are glass as you look at him. You refuse to look at Margaret. She deserves a burial. She did not deserve to die this way. But neither do you.

“If I hadn’t stopped myself, if you hadn’t fainted, I...” He drops your wrist. “I know you must hate me. You have every right to do so.”

“I hate the monster,” you tell him. “I don’t know the man.”

“I didn’t choose this life,” he confesses. “I was a good man once. I lived an honest life. A simple one. Oh what I’d do to be that way again...”

“Then be that man and let me leave,” you beg.

He nods, slowly, as if hesitant in his reply. “Of course. I’m…” An apology hangs on his tongue but he shakes his head, removing the notion of it ever being spoken aloud.

He leads the way out of the stable, back out into the rain. Despite the blood, despite how much you could believe him to be a monster, standing there under the moonlight he could very well be a God. Terrifyingly beautiful. Painful to behold and yet, impossible to look away.

He turns back to look at you. “I’ve forgotten what it felt like,” he says.

For a moment, you think he is talking about the thrill of the hunt, of feasting on mortal flesh. Not rats and the scraps of pests. Rather the source of his true appetite. But then he comes back to stand before you. He reaches out and caresses your cheek, meeting your gaze with such a sadness in his eyes, you cannot look away.

“I forget sometimes that I still have a heart. Even if it does not beat.”

He leans down into you and his lips meet yours, if only briefly. You stay still, frozen beneath the downfall. “Thank you for reminding me of that,” he whispers against your mouth. There it is again. Such bottomless despair laced into his words. He begins to pull away when you move forward to meet him, capturing his lips once more.

His eyes widen in shock as you return the kiss with vigor. Needing to get a taste of that immortal sadness. Of his loneliness. If only to remind yourself that you are still alive. His lips slowly begin to move with yours as his hands come to rest behind you, at the small of your back. Yours rest gently on his chest, on the blood stains that remain there as evidence of his true nature. But you do not care. Not in this moment. Not when he tastes equally of sin and salvation.

He is the one to break the embrace first. He pulls away, blinking against the rain. “Why would you…”

“I forgot what it felt like too,” you mimic after his own words.

“Forgot…” he repeats, confused.

“What it felt like to be wanted,” you finish, eyes held to the mud, now pooling around your already dirty boots. “As twisted as your want is for me. Just an animal seeking sustenance.”

“Thats not all this is,” he whispers.

Lightning strikes behind him, setting the horizon ablaze. He turns back swiftly.

“We should get inside,” he says before taking your hand and leading you back into the warmth and safety of the manor.

Once back inside his home, you leave puddles in your wake and begin to shiver, every limb vibrating from the cold. The taste of blood is strong on your tongue. You try to ignore it’s origin, disgust and anguish leaving a bitter film around your vision. 

“I’ll start a fire,” Steve says softly, looking you over.

“What happened to you two?” Loki asks. He stands at the end of the hallway, an eyebrow raised in intrigue.

“Got caught in the rain,” Steve says simply.

“Do you like running around in the rain, pet?” Loki asks in amusement. “This is the second time I’ve found you like this. Dripping onto the marble.” He licks his lips slowly.

Steve tries to push past him before Loki catches his arm.

“I can smell it on you,” he hisses as his gaze holds to the now muddled pink stain left to mark his former feast. “You fed.”

“Not on her,” he snaps back as he yanks his arm free. “Help me get a fire going.”

“Why don’t we get her out of those clothes first,” Loki suggests with a wicked smile. “I know you wanted to when she first walked through the door. To see what kind of negligee she is hiding beneath those skirts.”

“Once she is warm enough, I will be calling for a carriage to take her away from here,” Steve tells him.

“A carriage? This late? Are you mad? No one will come for her. Should have thought of that before you ate her horse.”

Loki turns to regard you. His eyes widen strangely as he meets your gaze. He turns an amusing glare back at Steve. “You kissed her too?”

“Too?” Steve’s shoulders tense. “What are you talking about?”

Loki turns back to look at you, his lips curling as his mind brews more mischief. “Who is the better kisser, little lamb?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You try to maneuver around the two men, blocking the end of the hall. But Loki catches your chin with his fingertips, forcing your gaze upon him.

“Who did you enjoy more?” He asks again, insisting.

“I… I don’t know.” You try to turn away but he holds you firm.

“Stop torturing the poor girl,” Steve growls behind him. “She’s had enough trauma in one evening to last her a lifetime.”

“I think she just needs another round to really make up her mind.”

He lunges at you, locking his lips to yours. His hands are held to either side of your face as he pushes you back into the wall. His tongue slides into your mouth before you can make a move to stop him. He moans into you, urging you to comply.But you won’t give in this time. Instead, you bite down on his lower lip, hard enough for him to retreat from any further advances. He jerks away, his eyes and mouth equally wide with shock. He laughs lightly, though a bit maniacally, as he wipes his lip clean of the small bit of drawn blood.

“You still taste like him,” he whispers. “What do I taste like?”

“Like death.”

This catches Loki by surprise. He steps back, looking almost wounded by your admittance.

“A fire,” Steve reminds him, his voice laced with agitation. Whether from his delay or the kiss, you cannot be certain.

“Fine. Let’s warm the little morsel up.”


	4. By the Warmth of the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost Friday ya’ll! Wow it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of momentum for writing fan fiction. As some of you may recall I wrote “Trusting a God” this way as well, posting every other day if not every day at some points. I hope to keep this up for you as long as I can!

You walk behind them, keeping both immortal men in sight lest they try something foolish. You’ve kissed both of them now. The taste of both men still lingers on your tongue. A sinful reminder. You aren’t even sure what had gotten into your head to make you act so unhinged. Perhaps it’s due to your ill-fated marriage. From a need to be reminded that you are valuable. Necessary. Wanted and desired for more than just your father’s business. To know you are more than just a bargaining tool. But now it seems you are wanted for something much more...carnal.

As you venture down each new hall, you survey every bit of decor for something sharp enough to wield as a weapon. Alas, you find yourself empty handed when the two men escort you into a parlor, crowned with a large fireplace waiting to be lit ablaze. You take your place on a lounge chair and wrap your arms around yourself to keep the chill at bay.

“Here,” Steve offers beside you, extending a blanket. You gladly take it, wrapping it around your shoulders for needed warmth. Looking up at him, you can’t help your eyes from wandering toward his lips. The same you’ve just kissed. You open your mouth to speak but he has already turned away.

It takes a moment for the men to get the fire going. They fumble with the stacks of wood, tossing them haphazardly into a pile. Loki struggles with the match, unable to light a flame for ignition. Steve grumbles beside him and comments on his technique perhaps.Like an old married couple. You laugh to yourself.

“What happened to your servant?” You ponder aloud. “The boy.”

“He isn’t our servant,” Steve corrects. “Though he has been compelled to help us keep up appearances during the day, lest the townsfolk suspect something is amiss here.”

_Something is very amiss._

Finally, a fire roars to life before you. Loki steps back, looking triumphant in his work.

“Can I get you anything?” Steve asks gently. “Something warm to drink?”

“Get the girl some wine,” Loki offers. “It will warm her from within. Might help her let go of a few withstanding inhibitions...”

You recall their goblets from earlier. Though, now you feel foolish for ever believing what was contained within was anything close to alcohol.

“There may still be some Russian Chardonnay in the cellar from Natasha’s original collection,” Loki continues. “Her mortal trinkets, she called it. Maybe we will finally get some use out of it yet.”

“That wine would be decades old by now,” Steve reminds him.

“Then it will have aged wonderfully!”

“I’d rather not poison her. I’ll make tea.”Steve gets up but hesitates at the door, looking at you. “Would you rather not be left alone with him?”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t exactly want to be alone with either of you,” you tell him honestly.

Loki laughs at that. A sharp, cruel chuckle.

“You hear that, lover boy,” he calls after Steve. “Our days are numbered.”

Steve gives a huff. “Don’t do anything reckless while I am gone,” he says to Loki, and to you he adds, “I won’t be long.”  


Loki immediately slides into the lounge chair right beside you once Steve is out of sight. He relaxes his arm across the backing and studies you. 

“He is insufferable,” he grumbles. “Thinks he is morally superior cause he hasn’t killed a human in a century.” He looks you up and down. “As if he wasn’t the one to almost kill you before. No, no. _I_ am the danger here.”

”Doesn’t matter. I won’t be here long enough to find out which of you is truly worse,” you reply but refuse to meet his gaze.

“You know...I’m not sure I want to be rid of you just yet,” he tells you. 

“That’s not your call to make. Like Steve said, he’s going to call me a carriage and...”

“And then what?” His stare turns serious, dark. “Do you even have a plan for what you are going to do? How you are going to survive out there alone.” He leans forward, just a bit. “Do you have any money at all to your name? Do you have any discernible skill to earn a living? Perhaps you can be a seamstress.” He reaches out, turning your palm over in his hand. “These sweet delicate hands will be ruined by broken needles. A pity.”

You pull your hand out of his grasp. “I hadn’t really thought it through...”

“Of course you hadn’t. You just saw an opportunity and grabbed it.”

“Are you done berating me?” You focus your gaze onto the fire, until the hot embers burn your vision into speckled clarity.

“I’m testing you, pet. I can feel that there is a fire in you,” he says softly. “It’s drawing us in like moths to the flame.”

_Then let it burn you to ashes._

“Was I right before,” he begins anew. “When I assumed you were a virgin?”

Your cheeks go red, hot with embarrassment. “That’s none of your concern!”

“But it might make the rest of this evening that much more entertaining.” He begins to loosen his collar a bit, opening his shirt so you can see the tuff of his dark chest hair peeking through the top of the parted fabric. “Was I your first kiss?”

“No,” you admit begrudgingly.

“That bastard of a fiancé then?”

You nod, regrettably.

“Doesn’t seem like he left much of a lasting impression,” Loki laughs.

“He was too... forceful.”

“And I’m not?” Loki smirks. “I have been told I am quite an aggressive ... but giving lover.”

“Arrogance will get you nowhere with me.”

“Oh? And what will? Tell me, pet, what more can I do to seduce you?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer darling?”

“I’d prefer my name or nothing at all.” You stand abruptly, keeping the blanket around your shoulders as you approach the fire.

“You should be more afraid,” Loki whispers behind you. His voice is too near. His body casts a shadow around your form, like a suffocating smoke engulfing you whole.

“I am afraid,” you tell him.

“Then why not flee? You’ve lingered far too long for a woman in fear for her life.” He reaches around you to smooth the hair off your neck. His fingers, outfitted with long, pointed talons, begin to stroke the expanse of your neck. “Especially after what Steve did to you. Especially with what I am thinking of doing to you right now...”

“I’m here because I have to be. Because there was no where else for me to go,” you argue.

“You stay because you are driven by your own desire. That’s why you kissed us both. Greedy girl...”

You open your mouth to protest but you have no just cause for what you’ve done. For any of your actions tonight.

“Perhaps you’ve never given yourself the chance to wonder beyond what is considered pure.” His lips are at your ear now. But you cannot move away. His touch is like velvet against your skin. A seduction beyond words. “There is a whole world of pleasure just waiting for you.”

“And you are supposed to be the one to show me?”

His mouth is at your throat. “You need only ask.”

“Can you promise you won’t hurt me?” You wonder aloud though the words are under water, drowning under the beating rhythm of your heart.

“I can promise you nothing.” His lips trail down neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Then show me.”

He pauses, lips on your pulse point. “Show you what, my darling?”

You turn to look at him. The admittance feels impossible foreign. But he must see a glimmer of the truth in your eye. He smiles wickedly in reply.

“You have to ask for it, pet,” he purrs.

“Will you... drink from me?” The question leaves you like vapor, as if carried out from deep within your soul. From the furthest recesses of your sinful heart. It does not feel so much a question of what he might do to you as it is, in fact, a request. 

You can feel his lips pull into a smile against your skin before, suddenly, he sinks his fangs into your arched neck. You gasp at the initial impact but then find yourself relaxing almost immediately into his embrace; the gentle pull of his lips against your throat easing any tension. He reaches around you, his hands finding your breasts. He kneads into you gently, then roughly, pulling a wanton moan from your lips. The pain is unimaginable but there is a spark of pleasure threaded through the point of impact; where your bodies meet. Where you are joined together through blood and desire.

His body is pressed into your back, so close you can feel him hardening against your rear. He thrusts forward just enough for you to feel all of him. All of his need thick against the strain of his trousers. You push back against him on impulse. 

There is a clatter at the doorway. Steve drops the teacup, it’s contents spilling across the floor.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He screams, charging toward you both.

You sway a bit as Loki pulls free of your neck. You have to grip onto the mantle piece to keep from falling forward into the fire.

“You got a taste. It’s only fair I did as well,” Loki explains as he licks his lips clean of your blood. You reach up a few fingertips to gingerly touch the wounds he’s left on your neck. The small punctures are still bleeding, the warm liquid pouring down your throat. “You should have told me how exquisite she was. It will be hard to find anything else that will satisfy the way that does...”

He rubs his hand down the front of his trousers, trying to satisfy an itch.

“Control yourself,” Steve barks. “This isn’t a game. You could have killed her.”

“So could you!” Loki screams in reply. “But at least with me, she wanted it. You just fed from her without ever considering what she actually desired.”

“Is that true?” Steve turns to look at you. He takes a few, very cautious steps to come closer to your side. “Did you want him to do that? You weren’t compelled?”

You blink at him, but your vision doubles. “I don’t feel so good...”

You fall forward into his awaiting arms. He still smells of the rain mixed with blood. His grip is strong, firm.

“You took too much,” Steve scolds as he lifts your weak form up into his arms, cradling you. 

“She was already depleted thanks to you,” Loki replies with a snarl.

Your ear is held to Steve’s chest and you find yourself searching for his heartbeat. Though you know it won’t be found. He walks you back to the lounge to lie you down there gently.

“We can’t let her leave like this.” Steve smooths back the hair from your face. You can barely see him now, his form a hazy image. You try to speak but the words are muffled.

“You think?” Loki scoffs. “They’ll think we drugged her. If they don’t see her wounds first...”

“She’ll need rest. And food. Perhaps we can send the boy...”

“Or we could turn her.”

You blink a bit, barely making out the silhouettes of the two men standing over you. You can still smell the fire. The wood burning in the distance. Too far. You are so terribly cold again. So cold. 

“Don’t you ever dare suggest such blasphemy,” Steve growls.

“What? Like it hasn’t crossed your mind? Look at her, Steve. She’s everything we’ve been looking for. There’s only so much the two of us can do to break up this eternal monotony...”

“We will get her back on her feet and when she is well enough, she will be gone. Do you understand me?”

Steve moves away from you, his image retreating into blurry nothingness. But Loki remains.

“Yes, master,” he says bitterly in reply as everything turns once more to a black abyss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little twist there at the end... did we expect Loki to be the master in this vampire dynamic perhaps?


	5. Below the Manor

When you awake once more within the strange, mysterious manor, you are not alone.

This time the servant boy sits beside you in a chair pulled up to your bedside. You realize he isn’t quite as young as you’d initially perceived. A teenager in fact. The first things you notice about him are the pale hue of his skin and the dark rings under his eyes; the markings of his own physical depletion. He was being compelled, you remember. It was likely too that at least Loki fed off him judging by his appearance. The thought leaves a shiver down your spine. You reach up for your own wounds, now concealed beneath a bandage against the side of your neck.

_Why had I asked him to do this?_

“Oh good, you are awake,” the boy says rather cheerfully. He reaches over to retrieve a bowl from your night stand. “I didn’t want to wake you but you really must eat.”

“How long was I asleep?” You ask as you slowly shift back into alertness. You push yourself up into a sitting position.

“Two days,” he tells you, extending the bowl for you to take.

“Two days?” You exclaim. That didn’t seem possible. But judging by the way the two men had both fed from you in a single night, you were bound to need the extra rest. But you would not make this habit.

“It usually takes that long to recover from the blood loss,” he explains knowingly, confirming your suspicions. Though he wears no wounds that you can see on first examination. “It will help if you eat something.”

You take the bowl from him. Thankfully it isn’t borscht this time but some sort of chicken stock. Your mouth waters. You are suddenly parched, needing the sustenance. You happily drink it up, pouring it straight into your mouth without the use of utensils.

“I’m Peter by the way,” he says, unprompted. 

You remove the bowl from your lips. “How long have you lived with them here, Peter?”

“Since they arrived in town. I was delivering the paper. Bad timing, I suppose.”

“And you know what they are?”

He nods. “Of course.”

“And… you are okay with this?”

“My masters say I am invaluable to them. I go into town during the day to get supplies while they are sleeping.”

“So they've explained. Are they sleeping now?” you ask.

He nods. “Yes, of course. It’s noon, miss.”

Noon on the second day since you’ve run away from home. “Has anyone come looking for me?”

But just as Peter begins to respond, you can hear a loud, booming knock echoing from downstairs.

“I’ll be right back, miss,” Peter says as he stands to leave the room in a hurry. You quickly get up out of bed to follow after him.

When you emerge onto the landing, you are greeted by the brilliance of day streaming in through the windows at the front of foyer. Bright blue skies, the trees swaying against a gentle, rather than tumultuous, breeze. And through that same window pane, you can see the man standing rather impatiently on the other side of the door.

Your fiancé.

You reach for your hand where the ring is now missing, left behind on your bed at home in your absence.

Peter opens the door, only enough to greet the man. “Can I help you, sir?” He asks politely.

“I’m sorry to come so unannounced but my fiancé has gone missing in town,” he says, removing his hat. “Mr. Stark’s daughter. You know Mr. Stark surely. The inventor.”

Peter nods. “I know him but I am sorry there is no young woman here,” he lies. “Good day, sir.” He moves to close the door but your fiancé wedges his foot in the opening to stop him.

“Don’t lie to me, boy,” he practically growls, all his former chivalry gone to the wayside. “The old farmer across the way told me he thought he heard a girl’s scream coming from this place a few nights ago,” he adds in a low, threatening voice. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that. Would you?”

“As I said, there are no young women here. Only me and my two masters.”

“Masters?” He tries to peer around Peter’s shoulder. You duck beneath the comfort of the balcony atop the staircase to remain unseen. “Where are your _masters_? Surely they can explain this misunderstanding.”

“They are otherwise unavailable. Perhaps I can take your name...”

“James. James Buchanan,” he replies with pride. “Tell them I expect an audience with them this evening.”

“I will do that, Mr. Buchanan,” Peter agrees.

“Mr. Barnes,” he corrects. “I look forward to meeting them.”

“We will welcome your return.”

Your fiancé tilts his hat in farewell and leaves, Peter closing the door behind him. Peter then slowly returns to your hiding spot at the top of the stairs.

“Your fiancé, I presume?”

You slump onto your rear, tucking your knees up into your chest. “He can’t know I am here,” you tell him.

“We will let the masters decide what is best,” he says, sounding almost rehearsed.

“Where exactly do they sleep?” You ask.

“In the cellar,” he tells you before he turns to leave you sitting like a broken doll in an empty dollhouse.

“Peter,” you call after him. “Before I... I could have sworn I heard Loki call Steve ‘master’ as well. But I would have thought...”

“That Master Rogers was the subordinate?” He asks with a smile. “No, he is the one who made Mr. Laufeyson in the first place.”

It explains his outburst now. Steve may have felt possessive over you, whether he regretted feeding from you are not. He was still the superior and Loki stepped out of line. And perhaps so had you.

\-- -- --

You preoccupy your day, waiting for the two men to awaken, by venturing once more through the manor's endless halls. By mid-afternoon, you find a library, fully stocked with all means of literature. And, ironically, two copies of Bram Stokers’ “Dracula”. You take a copy for yourself and lounge back in a plush velvet chair within the room. You’ve never read the novel before but now seems as good of a time as any. Call it a bit of research.

You are immediately engrossed in its depiction of the creatures you now know to be beyond mere fiction. Their otherworldly beauty. The captivation of their mere presence in a room. And the inability to deny their advances. They awaken something in mortal women. A primal need buried beneath societal expectations.

Before you realize it, you’ve all but consumed the novel. Yawning, you stretch your arms up over your head and walk toward a window to the right of the room, fully obscured by thick velvety curtains. You peel them back to find the setting sun just barely left against the horizon. Its amber glow leaves a strange sense of anxiousness within you; a static beneath your skin. Night is nearly upon you. The time when beasts would hold reign of the land. And you'd be helpless to give into their requests. 

The cellar, Peter told you, was where you’d find your captors. Now with daylight gone and safely away, it was time they awoke. You’d found the door leading into the underground dwelling earlier in the day. Now, tracing your steps you find it easily. It’s a bit alarming how quickly the manor has become familiar, comfortable even in its vastness. As if it were no strange place at all, but a home. Your home even.

You open the door and make your way down a dark staircase. In the stillness, it’s as if even your breathing is echoing off the walls. Every noise amplified. A few candles illuminate the room itself. Their wax drips down the stone walls like worms, crawling free from their confinement. Racks of old wine bottles and wooden barrels decorate the room. But there at its center are two perfectly black coffins. As if this were more a morgue than a would-be winery. The coffins are elevated, enough that when you approach, you have to stand a bit on the tips of your toes to see the lids properly.

You approach the one to your right. It is painted with a silver trim, but with no other discerning embellishments. Unlike its companion which is speckled with gold and hints of Nordic lettering and seals. You carefully begin to lift the lid.

It’s strange how seeing Steve asleep within the coffin unsettles you. As if you expected it to be empty, despite knowing otherwise. He is beautiful in his sleep. His hands are crossed over his chest like some perfectly preserved Egyptian pharaoh. And to your surprise, his chest is bare. His skin is pale but his physique is remarkable, strength pulsing through every visible muscle. You lift the lid completely and begin to reach for him.

He startles a gasp from your lungs as he jolts awake, grabbing you by the wrist before you could manage to touch him first. Upon seeing you fully, he releases your hand and whispers your name in apology.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to be awoken this way,” he explains. He sits up within the coffin. He looks you over quickly, an assessment. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you admit. “Though....” you pause, twitching nervously beside the black entombment.

“What is it?” Steve reaches for you. Though, as if he thinks better of it, lets his hand fall back against the plush velvet lining of the coffin.

“My fiancé came to the door this afternoon looking for me,” you manage to tell him.

“Are you alright? Did he try to hurt you?”

You shake your head. Loki must have explained the finer details of your failed engagement. “He never saw me. But he is coming back here tonight. He wants to meet with you and Loki.”

“Meet with us?” Steve begins to crawl out from the coffin. You notice now that, while he is bare chested, he wears a pair of trousers. You look away as it would be indecent for you to stare too long.

“I think he knows I’m hiding here,” you say toward the wall. “If he finds me, he will be so cross. He might tell father and I...He will...” Your hands shake at your sides.

Steve’s hands go to your shoulders as he comes to stand behind you. “We won’t let him take you,” he reassures. “No man has any right to tell you where to go, who to be. Loki and I alone will meet with him. You need only worry about preparing for your journey away from here.”

You nod your thanks. But when you try to shift away, his grip on your shoulders tightens. Not in a way that was painful but rather, enough to keep you grounded. To calm your worrying mind.

“There is no way I will ever deserve your forgiveness,” he says softly. “But I hope my actions tonight will serve as penance.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you reply. During your time reading that afternoon, you’d come to a strange sort of resolve about the actions that had unfolded in their manor. Of the death and pain that bleed through its walls. The loneliness of eternal life. With some reluctance, you’d come to realize their sin was not without redemption. “I understand you can’t fight your true nature. I don’t blame you for what you’ve done. Not to Margaret. Not to me.”

“Even more reason for you to leave this place,” he says no louder than a whisper. “Your heart is too pure for the darkness that dwells here.”

He moves away from you, walking toward Loki’s coffin to awaken him. But he hesitates, his hand lightly resting atop its wooden lid.

“Was it true what he said that night?” He starts to ask. He turns to you and in the darkness you could swear his eyes were just as black as the pool of shadows behind him. “That you wanted him to do it?”

You reach up to the bandage at your neck once more. “Yes but I... I’m not sure how to explain myself.”

“Try,” he orders. Though his voice remains calm.

“You said I woke something in you. You weren’t alone in feeling that way...”

Steve smiles strangely, running his hand down the plane of his face.

“I’ve harbored all this guilt for feeding from you and yet...” He turns back to you, his chest heaving, the bulk of his form more intimidating than his formal ware and pleasantries would have had you believe. “Perhaps if I had simply asked the way he had, you would have given yourself freely to me.”

He stands before you. He is so tall you have to tilt your gaze to look at him properly. “Or is it truly only Loki you desire?” He asks.

“You know that’s not true...”

“Do I?”

He lifts your chin ever so slightly with the guidance of his fingertips. “You are to leave tonight. I’ve promised you as much. But...”

“But what, Steve?” You ask softly.

“But I’m a terrible liar.” He grabs hold of you by the waist and props you up against the top of the coffin before he captures your lips with force. But you do not stop him. Rather, your hands find the bare planes of his chest, nails digging in as he kisses you deeply. You open your mouth to him, needing more of him, more of his desire. As if that alone could fill every emptiness within you. His tongue slides into your mouth, exploring, fervent in his need to just as equally consume you. He fumbles with your skirt until it is gathered in heaps around your waist. His hands grip to your thighs as he pushes your legs apart as wide as they’ll allow. He guides you to wrap your legs around him as he slides his body in between, settled against your sex. His hand glides up your inner thigh, caressing you so softly. You whimper against his mouth.

“Steve...” you moan. Your legs tremble from the mere notion of his advances.

His hand moves higher until he reaches the core of your need, throbbing with denied gratification. His finger slides ever so lightly across your folds, hidden within the delicate fabric of your negligee.

“There’s no denying it now,” he growls against your lips. “Your body deceives you.”

He pushes his fingers in, causing the fabric to bunch against you. You gasp, thrusting your hips on impulse toward the promise of those fingers.

“Steve, I’ve never... I don’t know how...”

“And yet you are already so wet for me,” he whispers. His hand is at the small of your back now arched toward his touch. “I need to feel you, doll. Want to get inside of you.” His words are animalistic, a snarl against your skin as he continues to rub against your concealed sex. Up and down, drenching your negligee in your own slick. You cling to his shoulder, your breath heavy. The pleasure building within in is set ablaze. Like a fire within your loins, kindled by each caress of his fingers.

“Do you want me more than him?” He asks, a possessive growl at the back of his throat.

“I... Steve, please... if you keep doing that...” You try to clench your thighs together but he forces your legs back apart. He grabs the edge of your negligee, to pull the fabric aside.

“I want to make you cum before he ever has the chance to touch you like this.” Your heart is racing as you feel the touch of his hand suddenly against your bare, revealed sex. You gasp but he silences you as he leans back down to meet your lips once more. His finger just barely breeches the surface of your sex as he deepens the kiss.

“This is a rather... awkward situation for me. You do realize that?” A voice calls out from beneath you. From within the coffin.

“Oh god.” You shift down and away from Steve, stumbling away. You try to adjust yourself but your legs are shaking. Your heart still thunders up toward your throat. 

Loki lifts the lid, sitting up to look at you. His eyes immediately go below your waist.

“You could have at least had the decency to wake me so I could join in on the fun,” he says with a smirk. But you can see that behind his smile, there is the darkness of betrayal. Of jealousy.

You face feels as if it has been caught on fire, burning with embarrassment so painful you have to turn away from Loki’s penetrating stare. Steve looks at you out of the corner of his eye though his body is shifted toward Loki. “We have a guest to prepare for,” he says without acknowledging the awkward energy surrounding the three of you.

“I heard,” Loki says, making you wonder for just how long he had been awake and listening. “Can we eat him?”

“No!” You protest. “Please just... convince him you know nothing about me.”

“Clearly not...” Loki grumbles under his breath.

“We will be civil. We will tell him nothing of your visit here,” Steve reassures but as he speaks, you can see that tension is thick against his trousers. The bitter promise of attaining you, now taken way. “You should stay upstairs while he is here. And we will assure your safe escape from this town. So you may never return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed the reveals of some of our side characters :D 
> 
> Who would we like to see our protagonist give herself to: Loki or Steve... or both?


	6. Hidden Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is ending up longer than I anticipated... I have a tendency to do this: Take what's meant to me short 1-2 chapter concepts and make them longer entries. Hopefully everyone is enjoying this happy accident!

“Come with me,” Loki orders as he bursts into the room. “You are coming downstairs.”

You had been laying in bed, trying to distract yourself with thoughts of travel, of the places you may explore once you were free of this town, of all its many entangled attachments. Paris. London. But those places feel so intangible. So far away. When right here, there were two things you wanted, racing around your mind, tormenting you. The wetness gathered between your legs, soiling your negligee, was another reminder of your true desire. That you did not wish to leave their manor at all.

_We will assure your safe escape from this town. So you may never return._

You buried your face into the plush pillow and let out an exasperated groan. Steve was impossible to read. He begged for you to give yourself to him, coerced you into pleasure, guided by his hand. But then so quickly dismissed you. As if your tryst had meant nothing at all to him. A passing fancy. But you'd be gone from this place come morning. Unless Loki has other plans. 

“What?” You startle up off the bed. “Downstairs? Are you crazy? I can’t let James see me.” You’d heard your fiancé’s voice echoing from downstairs not long before Loki’s sudden appearance.

“He won’t. I have an idea. Indulge me, won’t you?” Loki extends his hand to you. You hesitate to take it. “Don’t you trust me?”

You recall the way his eyes gleamed with jealousy down in the cellar, the cruel hints of betrayal against the curl of his lips.

“No,” you tell him, but take his hand regardless and follow him as he leads you downstairs, back toward the dining room. His fingers thread through yours, holding you tight within his grasp. You want to ignore the way the notion makes your heart race. The way his thumb rubbing against your palm makes your breath catch. Its juvenile. Especially after what you’d done with Steve.

“Steve is distracting him in the parlor while he believes I am merely checking in on you,” Loki explains in a whisper. “But I think it would be deliciously fun for you to be able to eavesdrop on our little… interrogation.”

“And how might I do that?”

Loki sweeps you into the dining room and opens a small door, leading to a dumbwaiter in the corner of the room.

“Stay in here and stay quiet,” he says as he ushers for you to duck down into the small, cramped space within.

“You can’t be serious…” You grumble as you try to conceal the full expanse of your voluminous skirts into the tight box. You barely manage.

“Don’t you want to know what your little lover boy will say about you when he doesn’t know you’re listening?”

“You mean James?”

“You know exactly who I mean,” he snarls with a glare.

“Oh." Realizing his meaning rather regrettably, you try to make amends. “Loki, about before…”

He holds his hand up to silence you. “We won’t speak of it now.”

“But I...” _I want you too._ Those words seem hollow somehow. 

He squats down until he right in front of you. He leans forward until his face is inches from yours, held cramped within the dumb waiter. “That little _stunt_ will get you plenty of punishment later, my pet. Don’t you fret.” His breath is hot, cascading over you. He leans closer to whisper against your lips. “I want to hear you screaming my name until you forget he ever touched you.”

You open your mouth to respond but he lifts a finger, gently pressing it against your lips. “But for now...hush.”

He stands and closes the dumbwaiter door, sealing you into anonymity.

Darkness surrounds you as you sit, waiting for the men to file into the dining room. _This is wrong_ , you tell yourself. _I shouldn’t be doing this_. But there were so many things you would not have dreamt of doing until coming upon this place. Of fulfilling your desires with not one, but two men. Vampires at that. You pull your knees closer into your chest, resting your head against your knees. _What has gotten into me?_ Your heart feels twisted, torn between them. But why? They’ve proven they cannot be trusted, not with your safety. Not with your life. And certainly not with your heart. So why did you still ache for their touch? For both of them. You suppose it’s the deadly allure of vampires calling you toward destruction. Something beyond reason.

You hear their voices suddenly and hold your breath, afraid even that they will hear.

“This is quite the large home you have,” James comments. You can hear the heaviness of his boots as he comes in to take a seat at the table. His voice makes your stomach turn with nerves.

“We’ve done well for ourselves,” Steve agrees.

“Wealthy bachelors such as yourself should be married by now,” James comments. “You know… there are rumors going around town that you do not… prefer the company of women.”

Loki gives a loud, obnoxious chuckle. “Is that all? There are worst things the townsfolk could begin to assume.”

“Well, I didn’t believe them,” James replies. “Especially with the screams.”

“The screams?” Steve's voice drops.

“Oh you didn’t know?” You can practically hear his cruel, vindictive smile. The one you had become painfully accustomed to. Your shoulder aches in reminder. “People have reported hearing the screams of young women coming from this part of town. From just around your manor…”

“They’re mistaken,” Loki snaps.

“They were mistaken for hearing women screaming?”

“Mountain Lions,” Steve says abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“Mountain lions,” he repeats. “Their cries sound an awful lot like women screaming. It’s quite terrifying to hear. And they are very common in these parts.”

If you could see him, you could swear James would be grinding his teeth at being bested. “I’m not an expert on the local wild life,” he growls in response. “But that does not explain my fiancé’s disappearance.”

“No. It does not,” Steve agrees. “But I am afraid we know nothing about that.”

“No? Then how come I saw horse hooves in the dirt leading up here? I saw no horses in your stables. They were completely empty in fact.”

“You went into our stables?” Loki growls. “Have you been snooping around our home all day?”

James ignores him. “Are there wild horses in this area too now? They haven’t all been eaten up by mountain lions?”

“Do we really have to humor him?” Loki asks with an exasperated sigh. “I’d rather just get this over with. It’s a beautiful evening and we are ruining it by talking to this pathetic excuse of a man.”

“Excuse me?”

“Quiet, Loki,” Steve orders. You hear a chair shift, presumably as Steve comes to stand up before their guest. “I suppose we can stop playing games now. You aren’t naive, James. Stop acting as if you are.” He pauses. And in your blindness, you can only assume what is happening beyond your vision. What wordless commands are being made.

"I always knew you two were more than you seemed," James snarls. "No one ever sees you during the day. You lock yourselves in this dark old mansion. For what? Do you kidnap women? Torture them?" When no one replies, he demands in a rage, "Where is she?" 

“So you don't trust us?" Steve asks, a strange brand of humor in his voice. 

"Where is she?" James demands again, with force this time. 

"She will not be returning with you tonight or any other night,” Steve finally admits.

“What have you done to her?” James’s anger is palatable, the chair knocking out from under him as he slams his hands against the table.

“We’ve done plenty of things to her. With her,” Loki purrs. “She makes the most delicious face when she is being pleasured. Though, you wouldn’t know that. Would you?”

There is a scuffle, a clatter as if something has been thrown to the floor. A glass perhaps now shattered upon the marble. “Where is she?” James screams.

“You’ll never see her again,” Steve proclaims. “Never hurt her again. Never even lay a finger on her. You will leave this place, denounce your engagement and tell her father she has run off of her own free will. Do we have an understanding?”

“Like hell!” There is movement, a struggle and then a scream.

You bolt free from the dumbwaiter, fumbling to the floor of the dining room. You find Loki posed behind James, his fist in his long dark hair, yanking his head back to expose the full expanse of his neck. His fangs are posed just before his flesh. A threat by their proximity alone.

Steve says your name, his eyes wide upon seeing you. "What are you doing there? I told you to stay upstairs."

But you cannot respond. Instead you can only stare forward at James. He finally sees you. His eyes are wide with fear as he says your name in an exhale. “Run….Get out of here!” He tells you.

“I could kill you right now. Drain every drop of your blood,” Loki growls. He lifts his gaze to yours across the room. Those emerald ores shine with recognization. With a challenge. “And I’ll let her watch.”

But when you do not move, do not even attempt to flee for your life, James's eyes widen with something akin to an epiphany. “You are a part of this?” His expression shifts, twisted by pain. Then his gaze settles onto the bandage still held to your throat. “Your neck. What did they do to you?”

“Nothing she didn’t want,” Loki replies with a smirk. “Should I show you all the fun we’ve had with your sweet fiancé?”

“James… You shouldn’t have come looking for me,” you finally manage to say. 

“They’ve done something to you,” James replies with conviction. 

Steve reaches for you, his hand gripping onto your upper arm. "Go upstairs. Now," he orders. His voice is stern, unrelenting. 

You turn to look at him. "You told me no man had any right to tell me what to do," you remind him. His jaw tenses but he lets his hand drop, releasing you.

“They've brainwashed you," James continues. "Poisoned you. We need to get out of here. Please… listen to me!”

“The only person who poisoned me was you, James.” It is difficult to finally admit it, to say it right to his face. “You used me to get to my father. You played me for a simple girl you could easily manipulate. But my love can’t be bought.”

“You really think I care so little about you…”

“You don’t love me." Your heart is racing, thundering into your ears. “This marriage is a farce and you know that.”

“I do love you,” he argues. His eyes are wide with denial. “Whatever these men have told you… its all lies! Please, just come home with me.” He says your name, again and again as if that may be enough to break the spell.

“As we’ve explained, she isn’t going anywhere with you,” Steve repeats. You turn to look at him. His facial expression appears unfazed. He looks every bit the part of a bored regent, about to deliver a death sentence with minimal sincerity. The gentle soul you’d first glimpsed when you came to the manor seems a distant memory now. The monster has returned, having consumed what was left of the man.

“What are you?” James screams, still trying to wrangle himself free.

“Demons,” Loki replies in a whisper as he moves to pierce his flesh.

“Stop! Please!’ You run toward them. You throw you hands against Loki’s arms, attempting to pull him away. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“We promised you nothing,” Loki snarls. When his eyes meet yours, they are no longer the soft green you’ve come to admire, but dark pools of blood boiling with rage.

“Compel him,” you beg, your voice trembling. “Like you've done with Peter. Don’t kill him, please. Just convince him to leave.”

“You hate him,” Loki spats. “His death would be a blessing.”

“You aren’t God,” you argue with a narrowed gaze, finding strength in the pit of your despair. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”

“Don’t I?” He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your throat. He tightens his grasp enough to make you gasp and strain against his hold, trying to pry his hands free. Your eyes widen with surprise. “I could kill you just as easily. Don’t forget that.”

“How could I?” Terror is woven through each word.

His hand snaps free and you fumble back and away, taking deep restorative breaths to try to calm your heart. To quell your fear.

“And what will you give us if we let him live?” Loki bargains. “What can you offer in exchange for his life, pet?”

“Don’t,” James struggles to say. The strain on his throat from Loki’s hold makes it difficult to speak. “Don’t give them anything.”

You hesitate, studying Loki's illuminating gaze in terror. “Everything,” you finally say. “I’ll give you everything.”

“Everything? Thats a bold offer,” Loki says, licking his lips. “You don’t realize the door you’ve just opened, sweet girl.”

He releases his hold of James’ scalp. He fumbles forward from the whiplash but just as quickly, Loki is grasping him once more. This time, he holds him by the chin, locking him within his gaze.

“After you leave this place, you will forget everything you’ve seen. You will tell Mr. Stark his daughter is being well taken care of.”

James’s eyes appear hollow, locked in the hypnosis of his words. “Yes,” he agrees robotically. “She is being well taken care of.”

“Good.” Loki releases him. “Sit,” he orders.

And like a trained dog, James obeys, sitting at the head of the table. He stares forward with empty, unseeing eyes, awaiting his next command.

“Thank you,” you say softly in a whisper. You turn to leave before Loki catches hold of your arm. 

“Don’t thank me yet, pet. Remember, we have a deal to fulfill. And a bargain with a vampire is binding for life, I'm afraid.”Loki shoves the glasses and unused silverware off the table, clearing the way. He pushes you down upon it, right in front of James. “Lets give him a little show then, shall we?”

“Loki, what are you doing?” You ask in a panic as he comes to kneel over you, caging you in. You squirm beneath him.

“You are mine now,” he reminds you with a satisfied grin. “So I’m taking my prize.”

He pushes your skirts up to your waist, just as Steve had. The reminder of his former caress makes your legs tremble with renewed desire. But Loki does not take his time teasing you as Steve had. He hooks his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and pulls them forcefully down your legs. Once they are fully removed, he pushes your legs apart and peers down at you with an unforgiving stare, studying every intimate part of your sex. Horrified, you try to shove your hands between your legs, to block his view. But he grabs hold of your wrists and shoves your hands up over your head, pinning you down.

He breathes in deeply and grins wickedly. “You are glistening,” he purrs. “Your pretty little cunt is just begging to be licked.”

“Licked? What are you…”

You gasp and thrust forward as his mouth meets with your bare, dripping sex. He kisses you at first and then begins to suck against your flesh. You’ve never been touched this way. Steve had been the first. But that had only been a singular touch. This is so much more. The sensation is exhilarating, guiding every nerve into full alertness. His tongue slides through your folds, until finding your swollen clit. He swirls around it, sending you toward awaiting oblivion.

“Loki!” You cry out as you push against his hands, straining to be released. He lets you go but hesitates as if waiting for you to try once again to escape. But instead, you rest your hands against his head, threading your fingers through his hair and pushing him down. Urging him to continue. “Oh god, that feels so good.”

“We’ve only just started, pet,” Loki says with a satisfied smirk before returns to your sex.

You close your eyes, focusing only on Loki’s touch. Driving all trepidation to the wayside, trying to forget all qualms of the sin you are willingly committing. Of James's empty stare. You feel a hand go to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. Fingers stroking your delicate skin. You open your eyes to find Steve at the edge of the table, staring down at you as Loki feasts upon you. He reaches out to you, turning your head slightly with his fingertips, stroking your cheek. He leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss. “Such a naughty girl,” he comments. You blink up at him, bewildered.

It takes Loki a moment to realize Steve is there, but when he does, he stops and lifts his head.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He barks.

“You asked what she would give _us_ ,” Steve reminds him. “I don’t recall her devoting herself solely to you, Loki.”

“But that’s not…”

“Fair? This never was. She is _ours_ now. Whether you like that or not.” He grabs fistfuls of your dress. “And I think we should get her out of this to better enjoy our new gift.”


End file.
